


The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

by m_rosenkov



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_rosenkov/pseuds/m_rosenkov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On the day that he did leave his home, The Wolf took mortals skin to wear as his own. He wrapped himself in it, from his head to his toe, and with rags as his clothes, so no one would know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfmonica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfmonica/gifts).



> A very short fic, based off Aesop’s fable, 'Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing'.

**wolf in sheep's clothing.**

 

* * *

 

On the day that he did leave his home, The Wolf took mortals skin to wear as his own. He wrapped himself in it, from his head to his toe, and with rags as his clothes, so no one would know. Then, as quick as a fox and as sly as cat, he found his way to the right mortal’s side, as easy as that.

 

She was a cute little thing, as small as could be, with scars on her face in the shape of a tree. She listened to his stories, green eyes wide, and asked him questions, feeding his pride. The Wolf was intrigued—she was like no other—but he had to stay true, for the sake of his brothers.

 

So he put on a face, and whipped up a smile, and they walked and walked, for miles and miles. But this lie could not last, or go on forever, and one day he reached the end of his tether.

 

He took her away, far through the Veil, almost their world, but rather more pale. And he told her more stories, tales new and old, until the warm sun rose over the Hold.

 

“I know what you are,” she whispered one day, twisting her toes and looking away.

 

The wind was quite strong, and ruffled her hair, and the Wolf—all dignity gone—could not help but stare. “And what is that?” he asked as she blushed—surprised with his voice, so nervous and rushed.

 

“You are not an elf,” her eyes were now teary, “So will you tell me, who are you really?”

 

He wanted to answer, but no words he could find—so he kissed her right then and looked to the sky.

 

“I’m no fool”—she wiped her eyes—“I love you... so please tell me why.”

 

“I am a man,” he said, his voice firm and sure—cementing the lie, so it would endure.

 

And so it continued, until one day, the light of his life was fading away. He’d lied to her, for much too long—it grew hard to say that it was not wrong. So when the sun set, and they entered the Fade, he held both her hands and said, “Don’t be afraid.”

 

Then he told her it that it could not be, and the two lovers parted, the Wolf and his girl with the tree. And he missed her at night, when the wind blew cold, and he missed her in the morning, when the silence took hold.

 

So when his time was done, the Wolf did leave—and he did not look back to the girl with the tree.

 

But though time passed, and seasons changed, the Wolf in sheep’s clothing, was never the same.


End file.
